


Who's Gonna Be The First To Say Goodbye?

by madeoflightning



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Future Fic, M/M, a lot of angst and self-pity, again only kind of, but it might be okay, kind of, louis fucks up, man tagging is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2618249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeoflightning/pseuds/madeoflightning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Louis wants to throw something. He wants to scream. He wants to flip the coffee table and the five, untouched cups of tea onto the floor. He wants to demand they all just tell him it's his fault, that this is entirely on him and he's ruined it for everybody. He wants to punch someone, or for someone to punch him. Mostly though, he just wants to cry."</p><p>Or, the one where One Direction is coming to an end and it might be Louis' fault.</p><p>Or, the one where I listened to Spaces on repeat for an hour and this happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who's Gonna Be The First To Say Goodbye?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry about this, and this is my first work in the One Direction fandom, hey guys. But I threw it together because it wouldn't leave me alone, and I'm not great at keeping angst angst-y. You'll see.
> 
> Disclaimer: I make nothing from this and I don't have any rights to One Direction or their images or their lives. If I did, there is so many other things I could be doing, rather than this.

  _Who's gonna be the first one to start the fight?  
_ _Who's gonna be the first one to fall asleep at night?_

The palpable tension in the room made Louis' skin feel tight, as he began scratching the back of his neck even though it wasn't itchy. He glances towards Zayn, who was fairing no better – biting his nails in lieu of something to do or to say. He can't bring himself to look at any of the other boys, so he returns his gaze to his twiddling thumbs.

Deep down, he knew this was his fault really. Someone is yet to come right out and say it, but he knew they were all thinking it. 

It's been about ten minutes since the last of their team left, getting the statements and reports ready to be dropped whenever the rest of them said the word. It's been ten minutes of thick silence – just the five of them sat on the couches, as much space as physically possible between them all.

Louis wants to throw something. He wants to scream. He wants to flip the coffee table and the five, untouched cups of tea onto the floor. He wants to demand they all just tell him it's his fault, that this is entirely on him and he's ruined it for everybody. He wants to punch someone, or for someone to punch him. Mostly though, he just wants to cry.

It was always Louis' job to break the silences, throw out a sarky comment to diffuse the situation – and when he'd fail on that front, Harry would pipe up with a knock, knock joke or something as ridiculous. Louis definitely can't look at Harry right now.

The silence continues to grow and stretch until it's possibly been hours – in reality it's only been another five minutes, but the unnerving knot in all of their stomaches feel like medicine balls, dragging them to a complete halt.

Finally though, Liam speaks. Or well, his phone goes off.

“That-” he pauses to clear his throat, his voice noticeably croaky. “That's my mum, I- I have to go. I'll... yeah,” and he's rising from the couch, Louis isn't even capable of making a 'momma's boy' joke right now.

 _Who's gonna be the last one to drive away?  
Who's gonna be the last one to forget this place?_  

Liam's departure kind of kicks the ball in motion, though. Zayn quips in, his words slow and carefully chosen.

“I mean, it's not like we'll never see each other again,” he says, trailing off into silence, like he doesn't even believe that. Obviously they'll see each other again – they'll be at the same award shows, even the same parties sometimes. But it's never going to be the same.

_We keep taking turns_  
 _Will we ever learn?_  
  
 _Oh spaces between us keep getting deeper, it's harder to reach you – even though I try._  
 _Spaces between us, hold all our secrets, leaving us speechless – and I don't know why._

“I told Pez I'd be home, so, yeah, I'll... see you,” Zayn is the second to file out of the room, and Louis wants to follow him, wants to go back to Zayn's house and play with the dog and smoke up until he doesn't want to cry any more, but Zayn knows too that this is Louis' fault. Even _Zayn_ is pissed at him. He refuses to cry in front of the others.

Louis spares a glance at Niall, who's the only one not pressed snugly into the arm of a couch, sat only a few inches from beside Harry. He's still not sure if he can look at Harry. It turns out Harry can't look at him either, though.

The door is hardly closed behind Zayn when the low rumble of Harry's voice comes drawling across the room, barely audible - yet still ringing through Louis' ears.

“Actually my flight home is soon, I better make my way while, um, traffic is good, so. Take care,” his eyes didn't once leave his hands, idly picking at his rope-less anchor tattoo – even after Louis gathers himself enough to look towards Harry, especially after Harry called LA ' _home_ '. Louis wants to throw up.

When Harry eventually does look up, he looks only at Niall. “I'll come to Mullingar soon, yeah?” He raises one, large hand, to clap Niall on the shoulder, before turning to stare at the wall behind Louis. “Mum is coming for the rest of my stuff on Friday. She'll let you know when exactly herself,” and then he's gone too, before Louis can even reply, his pea-coat swinging behind him and the door closing a bit more forcefully than it had closed behind Zayn or Liam.

_Who's gonna be the first to say goodbye?_

As terrible as he still feels, Louis does feel himself relax a little when Harry's gone, settling back into the couch slightly, his breath still coming out ruggedly and shaky.

 _Who's gonna be the first one to compromise?_ _  
__Who's gonna be the first one to set it all on fire?_

“S'weird, isn't it?” Niall speaks for the first time since they even began the meeting, his voice sounding even croakier than Liam's had. Louis still doesn't trust himself to speak just yet, so he turns to look at Niall, signalling him to continue. “Like, let's be real here, when will we all be in the same room again? We might never be in this building again like. It's just weird, is all,” he stops his mumbling with a shrug, his usually bubbly exterior dampened, his lively eyes dulled.

“This is my fault,” Louis whispers, more to himself than Niall, although Niall doesn't disagree. “I'm being selfish, I know that. I fucked it all up, this is on me. And I've ruined it for everyone – the fans, _oh Jesus the fans,_ they're going to be livid. The younger ones probably haven't even had something like this happen to them – _oh god-_ ” Niall jumps from the other couch to beside Louis, a hand tight on Louis' shoulder, pulling his head into Niall's neck. Louis goes with the pull, and he can feel the wetness on his cheek before he can even realise that he's crying.

“Mate, I won't lie, it started with you – but we could go on without you, or Harry, or whoever. But obviously we didn't _want_ to. So it's on all of us. We wouldn't be One Direction without either of you, and we don't want to live in... _those_ kind of surroundings,” Louis flinches when he realises what Niall means.

“I know, Ni. But this is on me, really. It's been five years, and I'm still too chicken shit to open up to the world, man,” Louis scoffs a self-depreciating laugh, shaking his head to himself as Niall pulls him closer into the hug. Louis just curls in tighter.

“He's not mad at you, y'know,” Niall tries to say, but he's never been a great liar, even when trying to spare someone's feelings.

“Yeah, he is,” Louis says, his voice cracking on every syllable as the tears continue to stream down his face, “But he has every right to be. _Five_ years, Niall. We were planning a wedding, y'know?” Niall doesn't say anything, but Louis knows he knew, he's Harry's best mate – he thinks briefly about how he shouldn't be talking to Niall like this, about Harry. But, well, it's Niall. He wouldn't repeat this back to Harry – and even if he does, Louis is kind of glad Harry could hear this, because he won't hear it from Louis.

“I don't know how I thought he'd marry me secretly – _Harry_ , like. He wants the whole nine yards, wedding, babies, growing old in rocking chairs on the porch. He wants that, he _deserves_ that. He deserves someone who'll give him that,” Louis cuts off, crying harder into Niall's neck who just keeps his hand running up and down Louis' back soothingly.

“Lad, you obviously care. You obviously love him – why are you telling me this, and not him, you eejit?”

Louis tries to laugh at Niall's bluntness even at a time like this.

“I tried, mate. He wouldn't hear it – although what he would hear didn't go well. He asked me about wedding dates and I shrugged it off, he asked why I wasn't wearing my engagement ring – we got each other one, y'know? - and I said I didn't want to be papped with it so nobody thought I was engaged to Eleanor. Then he asked when I'd come out, and I snapped Niall. I went crazy. I said-” Louis cuts off for another pitiful sob, “I said stupid shit I didn't mean, but like. You have to believe me – it's not as easy for me as it was for him. He wasn't constantly plagued as 'the gay one' or anything, I was _always_ 'the gay one', even when everyone was being told I was with Eleanor, I still got all that shit. When Harry came out, it just _worked_ for him. An off-hand comment in an interview, and nobody gave a shit. It was done. But it wouldn't be like that for me, Niall, I know it,” Louis let out a shaky breath, surprising himself with his little rant.

“Didn't realise I'm in a band with Mystic fuckin' Meg,” Niall says warmly, before correcting himself, “ _Was_ in a band, whatever,” and that set Louis off again. He fucked up the whole thing, because he's a coward. He can't do it though. He can't. Not yet.

“No, Lou, c'mere now, listen to me,” Niall pushes Louis back, wiping his cheeks for him, “You didn't ruin the band, but it's gone for now regardless. But you definitely haven't ruined it for you and Harry either. Harry still loves you for sure, he told me so not a fuckin' hour ago. Take a few days to yourself lad, even talk to Anne on Friday and _tell_ _her_. Tell her what you just told me and more, otherwise the thousands of pounds you've spent on tattoos was for nothin',”

Louis kind of snaps at that. “It's not _nothing_ , Niall! He's my entire world – otherwise why on earth would I ink him into my skin? Harry would never be _nothing_ to me, he's-” Louis cuts himself off, glaring at Niall's smile. Oh. “I see what you're doing here, and it's not- I can't- I just-” He cut off again. Fucking Niall.

“Just, take a few days. And don't worry about the others, you know how they get. But like, it'll be grand. Sure isn't it always grand in the end?”

 _No_. Louis wants to spit harsh words at Niall, but he can't bring himself to. Being mean to Niall always feels like kicking a puppy, and honestly, he knows Niall is right. Kind of. Maybe. Bastard.

 _Who's gonna be the last one to drive away?_ _  
__Forgetting every single promise we ever made?_

“You comin'?” Louis asks after a few moments, wiping the remnants of tears from his face and gathering himself to face possible paps.

Niall doesn't answer immediately, instead he takes a minute to look around the bland meeting room.

“Nah lad, I'm just gonna stay here a little bit longer. Just, when will we ever be here-” he shuts himself up with a shrug and a pitiful look to Louis who knows what he means without him having to finish his sentence.

Louis leans over to grip Niall in a tight hug, honestly not sure when he'll get to see him properly again.

“Think about what I said, yeah?” Niall says, looking hopeful. After everything that's happening to him right now, he's still looking out for Harry and Louis first and foremost. Louis kind of wants to slap him in the throat.

“I will, man,” Louis sighs, wondering if he'll keep that promise, or throw it away with all the others that are permanently on his skin now.

“I love you, Louis. You're my brother, and I'll _always_ be here for you, yeah?” Niall pats him softly on the shoulder, like he's afraid Louis could just crumble under his touch. It's a possibility.

“I love you too, Niall. And I'll see you soon, I promise,” Louis ruffles Niall's hair with a small smile, just to be a shit, before he heads out of the room and wordlessly out of the building, ignoring everyone and everything.

Thankfully, it's pap-less in the back car park, and Louis only slightly winces as he sees his old Porche, decked out with the license plate that Harry bought him all those years ago. He runs his fingertips over the rope to Harry's anchor on his wrist, breathing deeply through his nose.

He sits in his car for a few minutes, the radio softly murmuring through the small interior. He's about to start the car when the passenger door opens and the car shifts under the weight of someone climbing inside. There's a brief moment of panic – half of Louis ready to punch a paparazzi in the face, and the melodramatic half of Louis hoping some deranged killer has come to put him out of his misery – but before he can really panic, he hears an all-too-familiar sigh, and smells that all-too-familiar cologne.

“Niall texted me and said you wanted to talk to me,” Harry drawls, his hands in his lap and his eyes trained on his hands. _Fucking Niall_. "I don't think he meant like  _now_ but, well," Harry shrugs slightly, not continuing.

Louis has so much to say, so much he could say, so much that needs to be said – but instead what comes out is; “Don't you have a plane to catch?”

Harry turns to look him in the eye with a look that could level a mountain and starts to climb back out of the car.

“No!” Louis startles himself with how loud his voice is in the small car as he reaches out to circle Harry's wrist, his fingers locking onto the anchor, “That didn't come out how I meant it,”

Harry settles back into the seat, though Louis doesn't take his hand away. He feels like he shouldn't be touching Harry, that he doesn't deserve to touch Harry, his skin cold under Louis' fingers but the weight of the touch is burning hot.

“I can catch the next one. I haven't left yet. I can't really drive right now,” Harry says, still not looking at Louis again but he hasn't pulled his hand away.

“Do you want me to drive you- no, sorry, I don't. I don't know why I can't shut up,” Louis removes his hand from Harry's wrist to slap it over his own face, trying to figure out how he's supposed to approach this.

“Do you have to talk to me, or is Niall trying to fix something that's beyond broken?” Harry asks, his voice still quiet.

“Is it broken, though?” Louis asks the steering console, not meeting Harry's eyes in case the answer in his eyes is different than the one that comes from his mouth.

“You tell me, you're the one who stormed out and said you didn't know if you'd be back,” Harry says, a steely edge prominent in his voice.

“You know better than anyone I have a bit of a flair for dramatics,” Louis tries to joke. It goes down like a lead balloon. “Right, okay. No jokes,” he sighs and runs his hand through his hair, turning to look at Harry who returns his gaze, making genuine eye contact for the first time since their argument.

“It's not as easy for me as it is for you, Harry. I can't do what you did – you haven't gotten, I mean, like, for _five years_ , I've gotten so much shit for who I am – even when nobody actually knew that's who I am, and I just... I can't,” Louis whispers pathetically.

Harry says nothing for a long time, and Louis doesn't have any way of expanding on that right now. He's physically and emotionally drained.

“Let's just go home for now,” Harry says, or more whispers, as Louis sighs.

“Yeah, okay. Do you want me to drive you to the airport?” He subconsciously holds his breath, awaiting Harry's reply.

“No,” Harry breathes, sliding his hand over the centre console to rest on Louis' knee. Louis grasps Harry's hand quickly, like he's afraid Harry will change his mind, intertwining their fingers, lining up his anchor-less rope and Harry's rope-less anchor, and turns on the ignition, pulling out of the car park with ease. They're not okay. But they will be. Sure, it's always grand in the end.

 _Oh spaces between us keep getting deeper, it's harder to reach you – even though I try._ _  
__Spaces between us, hold all our secrets, leaving us speechless – and I don't know why._

**Author's Note:**

> I COULDN'T JUST LEAVE IT SAD I'M SORRY
> 
> also, note how nobody actually said goodbye. they were supposed to. i couldn't make that happen. i'm fake.
> 
> will suck dick for comments and feedback


End file.
